


Looking For A Good Time

by WillowPerpetua



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel
Genre: 1930s, Alcohol, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bath Houses, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Boundaries, Come Eating, Consensual Somnophilia, Dirty Talk, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, Gay Bar, Hand Jobs, It's like a checklist of 1930s queer hotspots, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Marijuana, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Parties, Pet Names, Possessive Bucky Barnes, Praise Kink, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Rimming, Safewords, Semi-Public Sex, Shame, Sleepy Sex, Subspace, Unsafe Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Voyeurism, some historical accuracy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 07:49:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4213794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowPerpetua/pseuds/WillowPerpetua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A wild night out at a party, a bar, and a bathhouse has Steve and Bucky all worked up, and unanswered questions about their relationship have tensions running high. By the time they get home, they are exhausted, but Steve’s needs haven’t been met quite yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In All The Wrong Places

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fuck_me_barnes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuck_me_barnes/gifts).



> I have never participated in a fic exchange before, so I hope this worked out the way it was supposed to. Not going to lie, this thing ran away from me and turned into something way longer than I intended.

The truth was, neither Steve nor Bucky knew what they wanted on a chilly night in early spring when a wind of change blew them from their apartment and out onto the street looking for a good time. When all was said and done, the knots that tied themselves around Bucky’s guts in bunches loosened a little when Steve looked up and smiled at him, and most of the time that was good enough.

On that night, however, when the salt from the sea still lingered harsh on Bucky’s skin from a long day and Steve pulled at his arm like a child, there was so much more that he wanted. It was finding a name for it that posed the challenge.

  
“Come on.” Steve said, just short of nagging. “We’re going to be late.”   
  
“Late for what?” Bucky asked. He thought it was drinks. They couldn’t be late for drinks, unless the clock ran out on them, but the night was still young. “Did you get a date or something?”

Bucky knew it had been the wrong thing to say. He was the one who got the dates—superfluous things that caused as much trouble and distraction as good—while Steve hung around waiting for them to be over so they could get back to, well, they were never exactly normal, but as close to “normal” as it was possible for the two of them to be. Steve fixed him with a look of annoyance and did not dignify his question with an answer. Bucky should have known better.

Steve pulled Bucky into an ally. The theatre door was splashed with grime. He knocked three times while Bucky stood back with his hands in his pockets, watching the scene like something from the pictures, with a bemused expression and a slight nod of his head. Steve had a plan. Of course he did.

The door was opened by a slim blonde girl in a shiny dance costume that he could just make out through the crack in the door.

“Yeah?” She asked.

“Hey Evelyn.” Steve said. “Can we stop in?”

“Sure.” She said, then looked at Bucky, sizing him up. “But you gotta be quiet, mister. The show’s on for another ten minutes.”

“Got it.” Bucky said. He took his hat off as he entered the building, looked around for somewhere to set it, and then placed it back on his head again. All around him, in various stages of undress, were women in pounds of stage make up and just ounces of costume. They hustled past him without giving Bucky a second glance, although the occasional girl would send a smile Steve’s way. Every surface was covered in make-up and dresses.

Cans of paint in familiar shades of blue and red that had been embedded under Steve’s nails for the past week, stood in haphazard rows against a wall. There was a certain method to the chaos that moved around them like water around rocks, unconcerned with their presence.

“Hey Stevie.” One girl said, brushing a hand across his shoulder as she slid by on her way back toward the stage.

“Hey, yourself.” Steve said. His voice spoke of confidence, but Bucky could see the way his cheeks burned scarlet, reflected in the mirrors and illuminated by rows of lights. A lurch of surprise pulled at Bucky, starting just behind his navel and ending up at his eyebrows. Never before could he recall anybody else referring to Steve as “Stevie.” He had certainly never watched a girl touch him in any way that could be construed as flirtatious. Bucky was not sure which of these things he found more irritating.   
  
The fact that he was irritated at all was a matter to be dealt with some other time. Someday, when Bucky could afford the time for a long walk and a deep thought, he would sort out all the “should-be”s and “what-if”s about how he felt about Steve. For the time being, all he knew was that he liked these girls putting their hands all over him just about as much as he liked getting a cold glass of water thrown in his face—not at all.

Steve watched the goings on with a kind of comfort that looked out of place around so many half dressed women. Bucky wiped his sweaty palms on the insides of his pockets and mimicked Steve’s expression.

“What are we doing here?” Bucky asked when they heard the crowd erupt into applause from the other side of the wall.

“It’s opening night. Though you might want to come out for the party.” Steve shrugged.

Piece by piece, the performers trickled backstage. From this close up, there was a cartoonish element to the whole ordeal. Everything was painted on and larger than life. Bucky liked the way it made him feel: real. Steve was real, too. The two of them, alive in this fiction together. Evelyn sauntered their way, a smile of triumph on her face, glowing.

“This way.” She said, tilting her head toward the staircase down to a collection of rooms that Steve knew nested beneath the stage in a maze. There, they found props and couches and alcohol flowing in abundance.

“The well has dried up a bit.” A tall man with hair greying at the temples and a shabby suit said, looking at a hollowed out space beneath the floorboards that contained a crate of beer. “Used to be this thing was full to bursting.”

“Used to be it was illegal.” Evelyn said, handing Steve a bottle. “You don’t have to hoard it now, William.” She said.

“Can I help it if I’m a jealous man?” William asked, sitting down and cracking a bottle open to take a long, deep swig. Bucky tried not to think of an answer to that question. No. William couldn’t help his jealousy any more than Bucky could help his own. He watched Steve watch the room, quiet and observant. Something in Bucky wanted to put Steve away under the floorboards and keep him there, just for him alone.

Steve passed Bucky the bottle, dark green and heavy. He took a drink and let the acidic taste roll over his tongue and down his throat. It went to his head almost as much as Steve’s hand on his at the exchange and the way their fingers locked together and stayed that way, like touching an electric fence. Bucky’s eyebrows pinched together and he sent Steve a question in his expression, asking _here?_

Steve glanced around the room through the haze of smoke and dim light, watching the dancers curled around each other, laughing and talking and kissing. He nodded.

“They’re okay.” He said, his voice soft enough that only Bucky heard. If anybody else had, they were kind enough to ignore them.

“Hey, Steve!” A voice called from the other side of the room. “Over here.”

Evelyn reclined across the arms of an overstuffed armchair, stretched out over the legs of a smiling redhead who dangled a cigarette between her fingers. She crooked her finger at the two boys, enticing them to their side of the room. Bucky followed Steve, wondering as he so often did, what he was getting himself into.

“You like reefer?” Evelyn asked. “Maggie’s got the best.” She said, placing a slow, soft kiss on Maggie’s cheek and taking her cigarette to puff on it before extending her arm, offering it to either of them.

“What do you say, Buck?” Steve asked. Bucky’s thoughts immediately turned to Steve’s asthma. His weak lungs, and the way walking through clouds of smoke sometimes made him cough one up. On the other hand, the room couldn’t get much smokier.

“Just a little.” Bucky allowed. Steve’s eyes lit up, as bright as a match. Bucky watched the way Steve’s cheeks hollowed out as he sucked and felt all the blood rush from his head. He knew that look, though the perspective was different this time.

“Oh.” Steve said, handing the joint to Bucky. “That’s different.” The other three burst into laughter at the observation, so simple and exact. Bucky took his turn and nodded slowly, watching every molecule that was Steve.

“Sure is.” He said. “It’s a good time, Stevie. That’s all we’re after, isn’t it?” He said.

“You go have your good time.” Maggie said, shooing them away.

The room seemed to be illuminated in a different way after that, as if Steve was the only thing there and everything else extended from him. They wandered back to their loveseat, curled into each other so that it was difficult to tell where one began and the other ended. The molecules of Steve’s flesh danced beneath Bucky’s skin, alight at the sensation of touch. Bucky wanted more of that. Bucky knew he had not said a word, but Steve’s eyes met his with knowing smile.

“Can I show you somewhere?” Steve asked.

“Course.” Bucky said.

Steve extracted them both from the couch and tilted his head toward the door, showing Bucky the way. He followed Bucky out of the room once again in the under lit rows of crates and boxes.

“This way.” Steve said turning a corner into a cavernous, open space which was full from floor to ceiling with frames of varying sizes and shapes, some with the remnants of paintings from shows gone by hanging inside of them, most empty. “Used to come down here sometimes when I needed a break. Thought about the kind of drawings I’d like to put in the frames.”

“What kind of drawings are those?” Bucky asked, with a particular answer in mind.

“Blue.” Steve answered with a shrug and a wry smile. “Thought about our games a lot down here.”

“Stevie—“ Bucky said. It was a warning. _People could hear._

“Please,  Bucky?” He asked.

“Stevie—“ Bucky said again. This time with a longing in his tone. _I want you. People could hear._ Steve took advantage of that growing conflict, cast his eyes down and raised his pitch.

“Please, sir?” He asked again. Bucky was lost to it. Perhaps he had always been. A fire lit behind his eyes, scorching him from the inside out. With slow, methodical steps, he closed the distance between them and placed a hand around Steve’s tiny wrists.

“You know I can never say no to that.” He said.

“You can say no to anything. That’s the point.” Steve said. He looked up to the ceiling to bare his neck for Bucky. With a low groan, Bucky walked them both backward toward a cinderblock wall, pinning Steve there. He stepped in closer, nudging a leg between Steve’s and ground his hips down feeling a sweet pressure that came as a blessed relief after watching Steve all evening.

Bucky leaned in and nipped at his ear, pressed his lips to his throat, tasted the skin there, attacked. One hand moved to the other side of Steve’s throat to feel the way his breathing quickened, how he swallowed Bucky’s name down. After the first onslaught came to a close, he paused for a breath and whispered to Steve.

“You can say no, too. Anytime.” He held Steve’s jaw, and looked him in the eye. Better to do this sooner rather than later, Bucky found. Sometimes Steve got too gone in the game. Steve breathed out a laugh and rolled his eyes.

“I can do this all night.” He said, without a trace of subservience. It was good enough for Bucky.

“Good.” Bucky said. “I’m going to hold you to that.” He felt Steve relax against him.

“Thank you, sir.” He said “I’m handing over the reins now. That okay?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, babydoll. That’s good.” Bucky said, aligning their bodies. He slid his hands down Steve’s torso, tracing the familiar outline of each of Steve’s ribs through his shirt. As their lips met, out of habit as much as conscious thought, Steve’s lips parted, malleable, while Bucky explored his territory stretched out against the wall. Right now, Steve was all his.

“What can I—?” Steve asked when Bucky pulled backward to appreciate the view. Bucky shook his head.

“Shh.” He whispered. “Don’t move.” Steve stayed put exactly as he was, shirt rucked up, hair mussed, left arm bent up by his head, the other on his chest. “You’re a picture, Stevie.” Bucky said. Steve’s cheeks flushed. Bucky knew how praise got to him.

Between the way Steve all but shook with anticipation and the distant, echoing sounds of the party in the adjacent room, Bucky knew he didn’t have much time left. Pacing himself, the constant reminder that they had no need to rush looping in the back of his mind, Bucky returned to Steve and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.  They heard a peal of laughter and the shot of a cork flying from a bottle of champagne.

“Do your friends in there know how much you love this?” Bucky asked, his voice gravely and deep in his chest. “You tell them about how you get on your knees for me?”

“No, sir.” Steve said. Bucky made a meaningful glance at the floor and then back up at Steve. “Yes, sir.” Steve said, before sinking to the ground and waiting.

“Maybe somebody will walk in and find out all about it.” Bucky said, praying that they wouldn’t, feeling the thrill that they might. He slid the button of his pants and opened them just enough, then reached for the back of Steve’s head and guided him into place.

Steve’s tongue stretched out for a taste. He was always eager to get his mouth on Bucky’s cock. As much as it hurt to slow him down, it was part of the game when Bucky tightened his fist in Steve’s hair and pulled his head back.

“Did you ask first?”

“Sorry, sir.” Steve said. “May I?”

“May you what?” Bucky said, raising his eyebrows in a look of mock disbelief.

“May I suck you sir?” Steve asked, his voice laced with so much hope it almost broke Bucky’s heart. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Steve returned to the task with more reverence, but no less enthusiasm.

“You know what I should do, sugar?” Bucky asked when he regained control of his voice, while thrusting into Steve’s mouth. Each movement had him hitting the back of his throat in waves of ecstasy. Steve continued to suck as if nothing he had ever tasted could compare to Bucky. “Answer me when I’m talking to you.” Bucky said with another tug on Steve’s hair.

He received a moan from Steve in response.

“Better.”  Bucky gasped, just as Steve ran his tongue along the underside of Bucky’s cock in the way that always made him see double. “I want to come all over your face and let you wear it all night.” He continued. “Show everybody how good you are at sucking my cock.” Steve moved his hand from the back of Bucky’s thigh to touch him, stroking in time with his mouth or fondling his balls lightly. “You want that?” Bucky went on.

Steve moaned around Bucky again and redoubled his effort as if to answer Bucky. He ran a hand across Steve’s face, from his brow down his cheek to his chin, feeling the way his jaw worked with tireless persistence to bring Bucky off. It was doing the trick.

“Ah—ah. Baby.” Bucky warned, pulling on Steve’s hair just a little harder than he had before. Steve brought a hand to the back of his head to hold Bucky’s hand there, a silent plea for him to keep pulling. Bucky knew this part of the game. “That’s—oh you’re so good. So good for me.” Bucky said. “Changed my mind, doll.” Bucky said, caressing Steve’s face with his thumb, his other hand still pulling at the short strands of hair at the base of Steve’s skull. “You’ve gotta swallow it. Swallow it all down and don’t leave a drop anywhere for anybody to find. Think you can manage that?” He said.

“Mmh.” Steve moaned around Bucky for a third time, with feeling.

Bucky’s head fell back, his mouth opened in a silent, euphoric O. The hand in Steve’s hair tightened to wring another moan from him while the hand that had been stroking his face in time with his faltering thrusts fell, forgotten, to his side. When Steve’s mouth filled up, he did not allow anything to escape. He swallowed around Bucky in a way that made them both close their eyes in satisfaction.

When it was over, Bucky tucked himself back into his pants and pet Steve’s sweaty hair into place. Steve, out of breath and rosy cheeked, sat back on his haunches. The noises of the party came back to them through the wall, more raucous than before. From the sound of it, they had not been missed too sorely.

Bucky offered Steve a hand off the ground, inspecting his knees—not too worse for wear—and brought him in for a kiss that was slow, tender even. Bucky knew how to play this: Steve couldn’t be ridden hard and put away wet. He needed something back after a performance like that.

Any night they broke into something like this, into one of their games too secret and wonderful for Bucky to even acknowledge when the sun was out (except on Saturdays), he made himself responsible. There were certain precautions that had to be taken: against the law, for starters, and nosy neighbors, and Steve’s lousy health, but there was something more important than all those things. Steve had to know how much he mattered. That had been the start of all of this, from the first kiss on, it had always been for Steve. That Bucky loved doing it too was merely a pleasant side effect. Bucky swung an arm around Steve’s shoulders and planted another kiss on him, this one playful.

“You still my doll for the night, Rogers?” Bucky asked.

“There is not a place I’d rather be.” He said, with that dreamy look that Bucky had come to love.

“Good, baby.” Bucky said, running his hand up and down Steve’s shoulder. “Because I’m not nearly done with you.” He could feel the way that Steve all but melted into his side.

They pulled themselves together enough to leave the party and made no goodbyes on their way out.

“They won’t mind.” Steve said with a shrug. “It’s not a formal kind of crowd.” As if that point had not been made perfectly clear to Bucky from letter A.

The world on the other side of the stage door seemed alien when they got to it. Suddenly, the night was wide open with everywhere to go. Steve had a look, the kind he got before a fight, the kind that meant he had an idea.

“Alright, Captain. Where to?” Bucky asked.

“I know a place.” He said, and took off walking. Bucky stood back to watch the view. Steve’s clarity and precision in steering this night had Bucky wondering. He had never seen Steve so collected after handing over control like that. Something stirred in his mind, and it felt like discontent, confusion. Bucky quickened his steps to catch up and felt the seeds of worry sprout within him.

 

* * *

 

He had never been to this bar. His eyes skimmed along this stretch of street as if it did not exist so often wandered by without acknowledgement after all these years. When they stepped inside, the reason for its invisibility became apparent. At this late hour no pretext was made for what this bar was or who it was for. The patrons were consistently men, without a single gal to be found.

It was a secret, hiding in plain sight, and it made Bucky feel not so alone. He threw his arm around Steve the way he always did, out of habit, in a fashion that was almost brotherly. Here, however, there was no denying that it meant more. They made their way to the bar and found a space there.

“You come here often?” Bucky asked. Steve laughed and rolled his eyes. “No. I really want to know. How did you find this place?”

“Well,” Steve said, looking around. “I asked.”

“Who?” Bucky asked, that feeling of worry seeping into his skin again. The wail of a trumpet sounded from behind them, drowning out Steve’s answer. Music drew a crowd to the dance floor. It was jazz, lowdown and dirty in the best way. Not the swinging, light-on-your-feet kind that Bucky had come to know at the dancehalls where he took his dates, respectable and proper. This was something else entirely and he loved it just as much.

The bartender made his way over to them while Steve and Bucky watched the couples on the floor gyrate to the music.

“Bourbon whiskey, neat.” Bucky ordered for himself, then glanced at Steve out of the corner of his eye.

“He’ll have a porter.”

They drank in a comfortable silence, watching vignettes born into life and disappear around them.   
A couple of men in cocktail dresses, with no apologies to offer, sauntered to the bar and placed their order. They drank and laughed and no one paid them a second thought except for Bucky. Bucky wondered about what was under those dresses, and if he could get Steve into one. He shook the thought from his head for the time being and took another sip of his drink, forcing his eyes to move along.

A boy, as young as Steve, held hands with someone older, grey haired and sophisticated. The dynamic was telegraphed to Bucky from across the bar in a single look at their interlocked hands—one gold ring, one without—and the crooked smirk of superiority that the boy wore with practiced ease. He was learning this world, getting a hand up, but not the way Bucky wanted to. Bucky wondered if the older man’s wife knew. Of course not, he thought. That was the point.

Moving along, Bucky’s eyes caught on a couple dancing closer and closer together until no space was left between their bodies. Mouth found mouth, hands found hands, and in a moment they were gone to some other place to do something better than dance. Bucky finished his drink and set the glass on the bar behind him.

“Let’s dance.” He said. Steve nodded and did not shy away from Bucky’s embrace when they found a vacant space on the floor. Being this close to Steve, under the carefully avoidant eyes of thirty other men, did something new to Bucky. He had always been possessive, aware that any breath could be Steve’s last in the battle against time and bullies and failing health, but this was a new one: Bucky wanted people to know that Steve was his, not just in whispered declarations in darkened rooms.

He held Steve closer and swayed them from right to left, a hand pressed against the small of his back to hold him. This close, it was easy to breathe in the smell of Steve, clean no matter how much dirt was kicked in his face. The smell of Steve was what did it. Bucky felt himself get hot, the delightful ache building between his legs as they moved together. Steve pressed closer, his thigh rubbing against Bucky.

“Steve.” Bucky said. He saw in the smile that this was the intended reaction. “What are you doing?”

“Dancing.”

“You’re a menace.” Bucky said.

“Are you going to do something about it?” Steve asked. This was the kind of game of dares that they had played forever, and Bucky did not back down from dares.

“Right here, right now? “ He asked.

“These fellas are pretty open minded, but I think even they would have something to say about that.” Steve said, glancing under his brow to either side.

“Then let’s go home.” Bucky said, feeling a surge of desperation at Steve’s proximity and his inability to get what he was after. He wanted Steve. He always wanted Steve, but especially now.

“Oh no.” Steve said. “You said I was yours for the night. The night’s not over. Come on.” Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand and pulled him through the crowd, off the dancefloor and down a narrow hallway. They came to a door, propped open with a battered brick, allowing for a cool breeze from the alley beyond.   
Bucky pushed the door open with his shoulder and let Steve slip outside first. The alley was vacant, except for a cat meandering around the trashcans at the far end.

“How do you know we won’t get caught?” Bucky asked.

“I’ve been here before.” Steve said. His tone was casual, but the meaning of his words hit Bucky hard enough to send him flying into Steve. His hands gripped at Steve’s lapels and pulled him to Bucky. Steve didn’t fight against him.

“Have you been screwing guys in alleys behind bars, Steve?” Bucky asked. “Is that what you’ve been up to when I’m not around these days?” He wanted it to be part of the game. Bucky tried so hard to keep his voice commanding. He tried to keep his movements controlled, but there was no control in the fear that lurched inside of him like a monster rising from the depths of his mind. The game slipped. The truth came out, just for a moment.

“I don’t know, Buck. Have you been screwing girls in alleys behind bars?” Steve replied with his own truth, a hurt in his voice that pierced Bucky like broken glass.

“I—“Bucky started. Yes, was the honest answer. No, was the answer he wished he could give. “Not always.”

“Then you know to put this one back where you found it.” Steve said, shaking his head.

The arguments bounced inside Bucky’s brain and he bit his tongue to keep them there instead of spitting the worry out at Steve—I’m not going to get arrested with girls; you could get hurt; they don’t love you and I do; stop it stop it stop it; come home and be with me instead—each though fell flat. Hypocrisies all.

Bucky tangled his hand in Steve’s hair and pressed his open mouth just beneath the hinge of his jaw. He sucked and pressed his teeth to the delicate flesh there, feeling the heat and blood rise to the surface in a darkening circle. Steve’s breath caught in his throat and he let out a slow, high whine. Bucky sucked harder, bit down, tasted the salty sweat that had collected there along with the hint of aftershave that still clung to Steve’s skin. He flattened his hand and pet Steve’s hair, ran his fingers through it while their bodies moved against each other.

There was nothing for Bucky to say. His words were wind, useless when he had wasted them all on pretty girls already. Instead, he could show Steve what he meant when he said he wanted Steve to be his. When they played this game it was as close as Bucky could get to letting Steve into his mind, and right now his mind was a desperate place to be.

Bucky could feel Steve’s heart pounding against his chest, strong and fast. He brought his hand up to Steve’s throat, right next to the bruise that he had made with such expert enthusiasm and found his pulse there, pressing down just enough to make Steve smile and lean his head back a little farther.

“You good?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah.” Steve said. “Keep going.” A pause, just long enough to make Bucky wonder if Steve was still playing split the moment, and then Steve added, “Please, Sir.”

Bucky pressed down harder, feeling Steve’s pulse pick up. He stepped closer to Steve, kissing farther down his neck.

“Tell me about it.” Bucky said, stopping to watch Steve’s face. “The last time you were here.” The command leveled any resistance left in Steve, but surprise lingered in his expression. His eyebrows raised and furrowed, lips pressed together.

“You want—“ Steve began to clarify.

“Yes, babydoll. I want you to tell me about everything you did here. I want to know.” Even in the darkness, hidden in the enclave in the alley where traces of light from streetlights were faint and scare, Bucky could see that Steve was flushing crimson. “What sort of filth do you get up to when I’m not there to keep you on the straight and narrow?” He asked in a whisper and felt the heat radiating off Steve’s face. Steve took a shaking breath.

“There was a guy.”

“A guy, huh?” Bucky asked, pressing his body into Steve’s with a bit more firmness.

“A man, yes. He was, older, I guess, and he wanted.” Steve faultered, not meeting Bucky’s eyes. “Oh, jeez, Buck, do I have to say it?” He asked.

“Tell me.” Bucky said, running his hand through Steve’s hair.

“It wasn’t much, really. He brought me out here to suck—“ he was cut off by Bucky’s hands on his shoulders, turning him around to face the wall, body pressed against the bricks. “What?”

“Keep talking.” Bucky said.

“He, uh.” Steve said, while Bucky ran his hands along Steve’s sides. “He said I had a pretty mouth. Bought me a couple of drinks. Asked if I liked sucking cock.” Bucky’s hands made their way around Steve to the button of his pants, working them open and then down his hips.

“What did you say?” Bucky asked.

“I said yes.” Steve said, resting his head against the wall. “Then he showed me the alley, this spot. It’s hard to see what’s going on back here. I think a lot of guys use it.”

Bucky crouched low, bringing Steve’s pants with him, revealing his ass. Steve stilled as the cool air of the evening reached him. He felt Bucky’s hands on him, holding him still.

“Then we better do this fast.” Bucky said. “Keep talking.” He said before putting his mouth on Steve, one hot, wet kiss that deepened as he licked inside Steve’s hole, his hands spreading him open.

“Oh, god. Shit—Bucky.” Steve said.

“No.” Bucky said, drawing away. “That’s not the kind of talking I’m after. You’ve got a story to finish.” Bucky said.

“Oh. Okay.” Steve said, a quiver in his voice.

“So.” Steve began again while Bucky resumed his work, licking gently into Steve, loosening him up and feeling him relax. “He asked me back here and just slid one suspender off his shoulder, didn’t even really take his pants off.”

Bucky sucked a finger into his mouth and added it to his efforts, sliding it into Steve to curl and twist just right, making him gasp. “Did you suck his cock, Steve? Did you beg for it?”

“I—“ Steve thought of playing along, saying yes, that he was desperate for that stranger and cried for him the way that he did for Bucky. He wanted to see what the green eyed monster of jealousy would do to Bucky, and what it would make Bucky do to him. On the other hand, the lie was too big. He had liked it—down on his knees for a man who didn’t know his name. It felt good in a way, but he couldn’t say he begged.

“No. I only beg for you.” Steve said. Bucky paused, unable to restrain the smile that spread across his lips, before returning to the matter at hand.

“That’s right.” Bucky said. “You’re so good, sweetheart. So good for me.” He said, licking into Steve again, pressing just right, causing Steve to push back into Bucky and smother a moan against his arm. He picked up speed and consistency, pressing into Steve’s prostate with merciless accuracy with each thrust of his tongue, loving the way that Steve squirmed back into him. He knew the expression on Steve’s face, in this dark alley where no one could see, and the debauched way that his bruised neck and blushing face would have glowed red if any light were to shine on him in this moment.

Bucky felt the flutter of Steve’s imminent orgasm and grasped his hips, putting all of his effort into this moment, driving Steve over the edge into ecstatic oblivion. Steve gasped and came all over the wall, come smeared against the bricks.

“Did he come?” Bucky asked pulling Steve’s pants up for him and rising to watch Steve recover. Steve nodded, still incapable of speech. “In your mouth?” He asked. Steve shook his head.

“Good.” Bucky said, pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

Bucky led the way. They traveled to the music of traffic. Soles of shoes against pavement, cars speeding by, the conversations of other pedestrians that moved along with them and were lost again into the night, kept the air around them alive without words from either Steve or Bucky. They carried themselves in the same comfortable silence with which they often walked. Just to be near each other filled the void that lingered in the hollow of Bucky’s chest and quieted the buzz inside Steve’s mind.

The bath house was nothing special. Not the fancy kind that kept track of the men who used their facilities, and not the worst of the worst. It was middle of the road, anonymous.

“We need to clean you up.” Bucky said, an eyebrow raised, head cocked to the side.

“You think I’m the dirty one?” Steve said, pushing inside without a second look at Bucky, leaving Bucky in his wake to wonder, again, how far their game extended.

Bucky considered for a moment that Steve might have called it quits in the alley, with both of them satisfied one way or another. Fair enough, Bucky supposed, but a lingering hunger churned inside of him. He wanted more.

“I think a lot of things.” Bucky said, catching up with Steve inside as they made their way up a flight of stairs to the desk where a bored looking man with a greying beard hardly glanced at them before holding out his hand for their fare. Bucky rolled his eyes at the sour expression that Steve made when he pulled two dollars from his pocket and handed them over.

“Well,” He said, while they each accepted a robe, not carefully folded but soft all the same, “you picked the bar.”

“You’re a prince, Buck.” Steve said.

They made their way down a narrow hallway, past occupied changing rooms. The sounds from within were unmistakable: the quivering groans and unabashed sighs echoing out through the thin doors and making their presence known, even if the denizens inside chose not to. Steve glanced over his shoulder at Bucky with a look that Bucky could not quite place. Steve’s wide eyes spoke of amusement and a certain degree for foreboding.

They found an empty room, more a closet than anything else, and closed themselves in together.   
“I’ve never been to one of these so late.” Steve said. It was an exaggeration. He had been to one of the bathhouses at Cony Island, briefly, and not for long enough to get himself into trouble. Bucky knew this and smiled, the side of his mouth curling up.

“You getting cold feet, Rogers?” Bucky asked.

“What? No.” Steve said, shucking his pants off as if to prove the point and donning his robe.

Although every fiber of him wanted to tear his clothes off and run down the hall toward whatever came next, Bucky finished changing with a deliberate, slow pace, folding each item of clothing or placing them on provided hangers with care. Finally, he stepped closer to Steve and lifted his chin to kiss him.

“That’s good.” He said when his lips left Steve’s. “Be a good boy for me out there.”

Bucky had a fair idea of the kind of stuff that went on in these places, late at night when liquor and perfumed water had scrubbed away inhibitions. As they strode down the hallway a step ahead of Steve in body only, he felt the anticipation of it like he had the first time he slid his hand up a girl’s skirt; it felt like the first time he snuck into Steve’s room in the middle of the night with something more than sleep and warmth on his mind.

They reached a room full of steam and hung up their robes at the door. Steve watched while Bucky found a bench and then followed with an expression of blissful serenity . There was not a trace of doubt in his mind, this was just part of the evening and from here it could go anywhere that Bucky decided it should. Bucky found peace in the confidence that Steve had in him, the feeling welling up inside him.   
Through the clouds of steam, they could see other men lounging on benches against tiled walls, soaking up the heat.

There was a sense of privacy in this public place, anonymity understood. Couples and clusters of men sat with each other, conversing or silently existing in each other’s company. As there had been at the bar, there was an understanding at this place. Anything that happened here was contained. The things that happened here were okay. Bucky relaxed against the tiled siding and felt the heat of the vapor seeping into him.

A moan ripped through the density of the atmosphere to reach their ears. It was an unmistakable sound, familiar despite issuing from a stranger’s mouth. Somewhere across the room, a man came, and it was Steve and Bucky who heard it.

Steve looked at Bucky out of the corner of his eye, raised his eyebrows. They did not laugh. This was not the kind of place where they could laugh at that—it might have been either of them. As the thought landed on Bucky’s mind, Steve’s hand landed on Bucky’s thigh. Steve leaned in to whisper in Bucky’s ear.

“I want to touch you.” Steve said. “May I, please?” he asked.

“Oh yes.” Bucky said, placing his hand on Steve’s and guiding it. The feeling of both of their hands on him made Bucky grow hard in an instant. The rest was done silently, but not in any kind of hurry. Steve’s right hand joined Bucky’s left in a slow, constant movement up and down, pushing him further and further toward that inevitable, glorious climax. His toes curled against the wooded support beam of the bench and his head fell back against the wall, eyes locked on Steve’s, uncaring about the other men who reclined behind the curtain of steam just feet away from them.

Bucky twisted Steve’s hand, so pliant underneath his own and increased their speed. He felt his balls draw up tight, almost there. Steve knew the clench of Bucky’s abdomen, the way his hips jerked right before, and kissed Bucky hard without permission. Bucky came without a moan to announce their actions to the rest of the bathhouse but instead kissed Steve through it, feeling his release splash up onto his chest and drip back down onto Steve’s hand.

“Oh, yes.” Bucky whispered again when it was over. Steve ducked his head down and darted his tongue out to lick up the mess he made. He cleaned Bucky up, licking over his abdomen and chest with thoughtful thoroughness. “ _Oh_.” Bucky said, surprised. Steve finished and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Well, we are here to get clean after all, aren’t we?” He said.

Bucky felt the cold air hit him, just as much a shock to his system as a bucket of water, when they left the steam room. He watched Steve shiver as much from the sensation as anything else.

The cooling rooms lay just beyond, in the next room over. A long, narrow room that held rows of beds. Beds which were being put to good use when they arrived, light headed and hazy from the shifts in temperature.

All of the activities that had been obscured by clouds of steam were laid out before them here. Men without shame or clothes set upon each other to do whatever they liked in this dimly lit space, crowded and entirely comfortable with the situation. Bucky caught an eyeful of a pair occupying a bed near them, faces buried deeply in each other’s laps. Despite having come just moments before, he felt himself stiffen.

Next to him, Steve shifted his weight from foot to food, watching the action around them for a moment before glancing up at Bucky for his reaction. Bucky looked sideways at Steve, still working it out. It looked good. It looked fun. It looked like a lot of very naked men. They headed to the nearest available bed and sat together, not touching except for a lose grip of their fingers.

Most of the focus in the room was on a thin man who was being railed on from behind while a man whose face was obscured in shadow fucked his mouth. The slap of flesh against flesh could be heard from the moment they opened the door. The moaning, gasping, breathless whines traveled through the room with little regard for who heard them.

Bucky watched the man who was getting fucked. He was skinny, but there was more on his bones than Steve had—not that that was saying much—and his skin looked like it saw more sunlight than Steve’s. It was hard to tell with what little light they had, but his hair looked nearly black it was so dark. Bucky wanted to run his hands through Steve’s golden strands. He wouldn’t do that here. Not now, at least.

A man with firm muscles in his legs and a thick mustache approached them. He gave them both the once over, staring at Steve appraisingly for a minute.

“You looking?” He asked Bucky. Bucky looked at Steve.

“We’re together.” Bucky said, eyes flitting down to his fingers, still loosely intertwined with Steve’s and then back up to the man standing before them.

“I see that. Are you looking for a third?” The man asked, leaning back just a little. He looked from Bucky to Steve “What do you say?” He asked Steve this time. Steve looked at Bucky. His lips were pressed together in a firm line, eyebrows raised. Steve wasn’t going to answer for them.

“Not today, pal. Thanks.” Bucky said, keeping his tone polite, conversational. The man nodded with a half-smile and went on his way, leaving Bucky to exhale a breath he was not aware he had been holding. They heard a moan from the other end of the room, where one of the three men had dropped out and been replaced by the man with the mustache.

“I think I’m good. You want to bail?” Bucky asked. Steve nodded.

They did not speak while they put on their clothes in the small changing room, just got themselves squared away with as much efficiency as they could manage with fumbling fingers and slow wits. All the substances and the heat and the sex made everything feel so much slower. Bucky shook his head to clear out his thoughts.

Steve made for the door before Bucky reached out a hand to stop him and pulled him in for a brutal kiss, almost bruising.

“You doing okay, doll?” He asked. Steve answered with another kiss and pressed his head against Bucky’s shoulder.

“Yes. Just tired.” Steve said.


	2. In All The Wrong Ways

How they arrived back at their apartment, stumbling just slightly on the last of the crooked stairs and fumbling with the keys, Bucky could not say. All he knew was the sweet relief of coming home and watching Steve throw himself bodily onto the threadbare couch. There was something good, whole, right about this. He felt it in his bones, down to the core of him. Here, he felt no doubt about who and what they were. The way Steve looked up at him from his side, watching Bucky hang up his hat, crouch down to unlace Steve’s boots for him while he relaxed, was peace personified.

Until the fire flashed in Steve’s eyes.

Bucky knew that look. It was the one that Steve reserved solely for those upon whom he was about to spring. This was a fighting expression, and Bucky was caught off guard. Steve had no one else to fight here but him.

“To be entirely honest, Buck,” He started, in a voice that rang through the silence like a bell. He sat up, flexing his toes and rolling his shoulders. “I feel like shit. How about you?”

Bucky felt the words like a knife.

“What?” He asked, face falling, shoulders sagging. He felt the world around him crumble in slow motion. What hadn’t he done? He thought he had given Steve everything. “You—“

“I thought going out tonight was a good idea. A good time, you know. Just—“ Steve started.

“Wasn’t that what you wanted?” Bucky asked. “You said you wanted to go out.”

“I did.”

“Then what—“

“Just listen.”

Bucky fell silent, waiting. He felt like a scolded child, reminded of sore knuckles from angry nuns in school, the way his father shouted at the dinner table. The scars of betrayal. He couldn’t abide that for Steve.

“We need to do this right. Better. I know you’re trying, and God knows I am too, but what are we doing here? I want to be yours. I am yours. But…” He trailed off for a minute, collecting his thoughts with fists tight at his sides. Bucky felt for a moment that Steve was having a fight after all, just maybe not with him.  “Is this what you want?” Steve asked after a breath.

Bucky pondered the question, not sure what Steve meant. Of course he wanted Steve. The sex? Well, yeah. He wanted it. Sometimes, he wanted it so much he couldn’t see straight. Knowing that Steve needed him. That thought dropped from his mind into his stomach. Yes. He wanted Steve to be his. He nodded, slow and sure.

“Then prove it.” Steve said.

Bucky sprang forward, hunger in his heart, ready for anything he could take from Steve. Steve’s fist collided with his jaw. That solid right hook that Bucky knew so well from all of Steve’s scrapes with bullies. He reeled back, clutching his face, eyes wide with horror.

“Steve?” He asked.

“Not the fuck like that, asshole.” Steve said. He shook his head, a glimmer of a smile on his face hidden just behind his scowl. He crossed the tiny room and took a seat on the bed with enough room for Bucky to join him. “You gotta talk to me.”

“We talk.” Bucky said, not sure that it was true, at least not in the way Steve meant. They talked about everything: life, work, baseball, politics, the neighborhood, anything that ran through their heads. They hadn’t talked about a whole lot that night, though.

“Then let’s talk before we get ourselves into a situation where you’ve got your tongue up my ass in an alley. It was my fault tonight, too. I should have told you where we were going and what I wanted.”

“Did you want it? What we did?” Bucky asked. He felt like he swallowed a brick.

“Yes.” Steve said. “You just didn’t ask me. You never said you wanted to fuck anywhere but at home. We’ve never done that before. I know you do it with other people, but I’m not other people.” He shook his head. “Also, I’m still a little drunk, a little stoned. I don’t know if what I want now is going to be the same as what I want tomorrow, or if it was what I wanted yesterday, you know?”

Bucky nodded. How many times had he been where Steve sat now, thinking the same thing?

“I’m sorry Steve.” He said. “If you don’t want to do this anymore, I understand.”

“That’s not what I said.” Steve said. “I want to do this. As long as you are in, I’m in. It’s good for me. Just check in with me before. Ask me about things. Take care of me when it’s over.”

As if struck by lightning, Bucky nodded, strode the few steps to the kitchen sink and found a clean glass. He filled it with water and brought it back to Steve. “Okay.” He said, handing it over, watching Steve drink, feeling remiss in his role.

“Thank you.” Steve said, placing the water on the bedside table, half drunk. “There’s something else. You’ve never done anything I didn’t want. You could do more, in fact. I want you to own me, dominate me. Take control.” Bucky felt a rush of heat, pooling low in his belly. Oh god, just the words made him want to take Steve right there. “We have to be smart about it, Buck. I need to know you will stop if I tell you to. Not if I say no, but if I really, really mean it. The word ‘no’ might just happen. It might slip out. I might want you to make me say no when I mean yes.”

“So you want a code?”

“Yeah.” Steve said. “Don’t let up unless I call you James. If I say your first name, you know it’s serious. Otherwise, don’t stop.” The suggestion tugged on something primal in Bucky. He nodded.

“Sounds good. If I have to, I’ll use your middle name. Fair?” He asked.

“Fair.” The word left Steve and they stood in silence, feeling the tension subside, rolling away like a tide receding.

“You know what’s not fair?” Bucky said, the realization hitting him all at once. Steve’s eyebrows rose in expectation. “You only came once tonight.” He said. “I’m going to make that up to you. Even out the scoreboard. Promise, babydoll.”

“There are a lot of things we need to even out.” Steve said. “There are things I want, things I don’t want. We need rules—real rules.”

“I’ll follow them. I swear.” Bucky said, so earnestly the words shocked him. It felt like a prayer.

“I’ll follow yours, too.” Steve said. “I’m not the only one who calls the shots.”

“Sounds good.” Bucky said, nodding.

Steve smiled with a sweet kind of surprised earnestness that never failed to melt Bucky. “Sounds good. I’m not up for it right now, though. Too tired.  We can talk more later. We can screw more, too. Just—Surprise me later.” He said. Back on track, feeling on more solid ground when it came to where they stood, Bucky let out a little chuckle of relief. Steve lay down on the bed. “You’re my best friend, Bucky. You are the only person I trust enough to do this with.”

Bucky’s feet moved on their own accord, closing the space between, bringing them together. He droped down next to him. Their lips touched and it was gentle, a different kind of kiss than the merciless passion that overwhelmed them in sweaty, dark corners. This was the kind of kiss that made them forget there was anything else in the world. Bucky lost track of how long they kissed, knowing nothing else but Steve’s lips. When they parted, there was a glazed, glassy look in Steve’s eyes.

“Better?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah.” Steve said. “I’m going to catch some zees. It’s late.”

“You’re right, it is late.” Bucky said. “Get some sleep.”

Steve pulled Bucky’s arm around him and nestled in closer. “I meant it when I said surprise me later.” Steve said. “Not too much later, though. I haven’t got all night, if you catch my drift.”

“You want me to wake you up in a little bit?” Bucky asked.

“Wake me up, don’t wake me up, whatever you think seems good.” Steve said, yawning. His breathing evened out to a steady rhythm in moments. He was out like a light.

Bucky awoke an hour later, his mind buzzing with the earlier events of the evening and Steve sleeping soundly next to him. Thinking clearly now, he considered all that they did in the past hours, and all that he could do now. With the air cleared between the two of them, a world of opportunities and possibilities seemed to have opened up.

He thought about Steve, the way he panted and moaned, unabashed at three or four in the morning when the neighbors were sound asleep, or uninterested, or similarly occupied themselves. He thought about the way Steve tasted. Bucky ground down into the mattress, feeling his breath catch in his chest. He wanted Steve again. He wanted Steve awake. He wanted Steve right now.

Steve made no response at all when Bucky’s lips pressed against his neck, hot and wet. He trailed his fingers down Steve’s torso, leaving goosebumps in his wake, and received a shiver for his efforts, but Steve stayed resolutely immobile. His lips followed, kissing and sucking at the skin made bare by Bucky’s hands.

He pulled Steve free from his shorts with reverent bliss. He was so delicate, so vulnerable like this. He pressed a kiss between Steve’s legs and heard Steve groan from above him.

“Stevie, baby.” Bucky said.

“Mmh?” Steve voiced. “Don’t stop, please.” He said.  

“Stevie, I need to know, what are you?”

“Yours.” Steve’s eyes stayed closed, but the corner of his mouth turned up in a sleepy smile that Bucky couldn’t help but kiss.

“That’s fuckin’ right.” He said. “I’m going to prove it to you. Just like you asked.” Bucky said, replacing his mouth on Steve’s cock, taking the tip in and feeling it harden in his hand. He flicked his tongue and pressed it against the slit, bobbed his head up and down, sucked. The feeling of Steve’s hand on his head, heavy with sleep and need, pressed him forward into accelerated action.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Steve breathed out a stream of heavy sounds, almost moans, deep with desire and almost, almost… Bucky felt Steve’s thighs go taut, legs extend, ready to tumble off into bliss and pulled back, grabbing Steve’s wrists as he hovered over him with a triumphant smile. Steve’s eyes were wide, he was awake and disoriented and the need coursed through him like electricity.

“Oh God. Please, Buck.” He begged. Bucky smirked and kissed the tip of Steve’s nose. He shook his head.

“Not yet, sugar. Patience.” Bucky said, He rolled his hips down against Steve’s and watched Steve’s eyes roll back, accompanied by a resounding groan. “Awake yet?” He asked.

“Getting there.” Steve said.

“Steve, I want to fuck you.” Bucky said, in the most clear and commanding way he knew how. “I want to fuck you until you can’t fuck anymore and then I want to keep going.” He rolled his hips again and received a sharp gasp. “Wanna see how many times I can get you to come for me tonight.” He said.

“Oh God.”

“Haven’t been treating you right.” Bucky said, “Gonna treat you so good tonight.” Bucky said, kissing under Steve’s jaw, leaving a trail of kissing down his neck. “Don’t come yet.” He said, his tongue darting out to catch a drop of precome that escaped from Steve’s dick. Steve threw his head back against the pillow.

“Really?” He asked.

“Really. You’re not coming until you’ve got me in you.” Bucky said. “Then you’re not going to stop coming. Got it?”

Steve met his eyes and nodded. Bucky placed his lips back on Steve, warmth and suction all around him, and moved up and down with even determination. He stroked the velvety skin of Steve’s balls lightly as he sucked, and traced his hand down lower along the cleft of his ass. The desperation, pure want that sounded from above him spurred Bucky on. He reached his hand up to Steve’s face while he sucked.

His extended arm was all the command that Steve needed. He opened his mouth and granted Bucky’s finger access, pressing down hard on his tongue, suppressing the sounds. If he could have looked at Steve’s face, he would have seen his eyes shut in worshipful ecstasy.

To be filled by Bucky in any capacity was all that Steve needed. He sucked Bucky’s fingers farther into his mouth while Bucky sucked Steve’s cock. Bucky felt Steve’s leg’s wrap around his waist like a vice, shaking and needy. This would end soon if he didn’t put a stop to it. He withdrew his fingers and removed his mouth in a decisive, single motion , and heard the disappointed gasp from Steve.

Their eyes met and Bucky gave Steve a disapproving, almost disbelieving stair. He shook his head by a fraction of an inch.

“I said not yet.”

Bucky repositioned Steve’s legs, malleable like a rag doll’s, so that Steve was open to him and caressed him with fingers wet with Steve’s spit. When he sank the first finger in, Steve opened for him and Bucky felt like coming home all over again. The heat enveloped his finger and Steve’s muscles pulled him in deeper. Bucky moved his hand back and forth, massaging those walls, relaxing him. He watched Steve’s chest rise and fall while he worked and timed his movements with Steve’s breath.

Steve groaned, long and low, when Bucky added another finger, and then a third. He squirmed down lower to get closer to Bucky, to feel more. Bucky’s free hand pressed down on Steve’s chest to hold him in place. Their eyes met and Bucky shook his head.

“Hold still, baby. Let me give you what you need.” He said. Steve’s eyes glazed over, his expression drifting into a calm kind of serenity that Bucky had not yet seen that night. From their first encounter in the basement of the theater through all of their escapades that night, nothing that Bucky had felt had been as good as the look on Steve’s face in that moment. He kissed Steve’s lips, so warm and soft and receptive, and felt something overwhelming bubble to the surface of him, of them. It was unnamable, and impossible to contain.

Bucky aligned himself with Steve and pushed in with one single, fluid motion. When he was pressed in as far as he could go, he rested his forehead against Steve’s. Their eyes locked while their bodies adjusted, trembling from the devastating perfection of the feeling of each other. Steve lay perfectly still below Bucky, his desire made plain in his eyes.

“You’re so good for me, sweetheart. Such a good boy.” Bucky whispered, hardly disturbing the silence at all. Steve’s breath ghosted across his face so gently. Bucky would destroy them both before the night was out. “I’m gonna use all that sweetness up, baby.” He said, pressing a tender kiss on Steve’s lips.

He drew back just enough and pushed Steve’s legs up so that they draped across his shoulders. This was the way, Bucky knew, to hit Steve where it counted. If he did it right, he could get Steve screaming with every thrust.

Bucky was determined to do it right.

He saw the anticipatory smile on Steve’s face. They both knew where this was going. Bucky’s hips pressed forward with a surge of energy, thrown into overdrive by that look on Steve’s face: so perfect and so pure.

Steve threw his head back, his mouth opened, but no sound escaped. Bucky began fucking in earnest, earning tiny, almost inaudible whimpers from Steve with each thrust of his hips. The bed creaked below them, adding sound to their rhythm. Steve’s back arched when Bucky picked up speed.

“Uh—ah…” The sounds escaped without thought or conscious decision. Bucky ran a hand along Steve’s throat, so exposed and perfectly smooth.

“That’s right, sweet baby.” He said pushing in hard and changing up the rhythm. He felt Steve contract and shudder all around him. He came untouched, spurting across his chest. Bucky ran his hand through it, dragged the come across Steve’s nipple and pinched it. “That feel good?” He asked, still thrusting inside of Steve while his breathing evened out.

“Oh Jesus. Yes. Yes sir.” Steve breathed out. They continued to make the bed creak and groan beneath them as they moved together. Bucky’s hips slowed, his movements were smaller, more controlled, while Steve recovered from round one. After a moment of slow fucking, Steve licked his lips and watched the way Bucky smiled. Bucky took it as an invitation and lowered his face to his lover to pace a delicate kiss there before slamming his hips back down into Steve’s and earning a gasp that he swallowed whole.

This time, Bucky did not let up. He gave Steve no quarter, pounding into him with relentless force and a confident knowledge of just how to move to get Steve off in the best possible way. He hitched Steve’s legs up higher and picked up speed, listening to the breathless moans that escaped him every time he hit Steve’s prostate with the kind of force that might have knocked him over if he had been standing.

“Oh—Fuck!” Steve shouted when Bucky thrust in with even more power than before.

“You need me to slow down?” He asked.

“Don’t you dare.” Steve said, shaking his head. “More.” He demanded. Bucky was only too happy to oblige, to louder protest from the wooden bedframe below them but no complaint from Steve. He let loose, pounding away like he was born to do it, like it was his calling.

“What are you?”

“Yours.” Steve moaned, his pitch high and needy. Bucky nodded, smiled, pulled Steve’s hair.

“What are you?” He asked again, his hips battering Steve’s ass with unflinching relentlessness.

“Yours.” Steve said again with a delirious smile on his face. Bucky’s movements grew even more emphatic as he felt Steve tense against him, his legs stretching out above his shoulders, thighs clenching. He could feel Steve getting close.

“What are you?” He growled in Steve’s ear.

“Yours!” Steve shouted as he came again. It poured out of him in waves. If Bucky hadn’t just seen Steve come moments before, he would have guessed Steve hadn’t come for days. He stilled when it was over and stayed buried inside of him, watching Steve breathe and return to himself. He opened his eyes and fixed them on Bucky. They were filled with an expression of awe.

“Again?” Bucky asked. He had promised Steve that he would keep coming.  

“Yes, please.” Steve said, a glazed look in his eye. Bucky moved one of Steve’s legs so that they were both resting, draped across one of Bucky’s shoulders and started to move again. He was gentle and careful this time, moving just enough to stimulate Steve. He tried to be considerate of the pounding he had just given him. In and out, back and forth, bit by bit he worked Steve up again.

He watched as the color crept up Steve’s neck and ears, the flush spread into his chest and bloomed across his face. Bucky had never met a person who could blush the way Steve could. The way he went red made Bucky feel like he was doing something right. The way Steve bit his lip and let out a high, keening sound made Bucky sure of it.

Steve’s erection bobbed against his stomach with each thrust that rippled from Bucky, up through Steve. It looked desperate to be held. Bucky reached for it with the hand not steadying Steve’s legs and applied a little pressure.

“Please.” Steve said.

“Hmm?” Bucky hummed, as if he was unaware of what Steve might want. “You need something, Stevie, babe?” He asked.

“Oh God, Bucky.” Steve said, bringing his hand down to Bucky’s. “Please.” He said. Bucky took Steve’s hand in his own and brought it to his lips. He kissed the back of it, old fashioned and gentlemanly, while he fucked Steve with to a steady beat.

“Stevie, Stevie, babe.” He said, “I’ll.” He kissed Steve’s pinky finger. “Take.” He kissed his ring finger. “Care.” He kissed his middle finger. “Of.” He kissed his index finger. “You” He took Steve’s thumb into his mouth and held it there, sucking and swirling his tongue around the tip, only for a moment, before releasing it and bringing Steve’s hand back down to Steve’s chest. Bucky replaced his hand on Steve’s aching cock and did exactly as he promised.

With Bucky’s cock in Steve’s ass, his hand on Steve’s cock, and the all-encompassing sensations that engulfed his entire existence each time they moved, so sensitive from having come twice so shortly before, it hardly took Steve any time at all to build up to a third orgasm. He tried with everything that was left in him, to hold it together for just a little while longer. The twist of Bucky’s hand in concert with the perfect way he caressed his prostate drove Steve around the corner for a third time. He came in a short splatter, mostly on Bucky’s hand.

Bucky watched the scene play out below him with a smirk, knowing every thought that ran through Steve’s mind as he thought it. His face broadcast his desire to wait, and to come, and not to think at all. Bucky slowed his hips and bent down to kiss Steve’s thoughts away.

“Oh baby,” He said, when they parted. “You’re doing so good.” He saw Steve’s sleepy smile. “You’re going to come one more time for me, and then I’ll let you sleep, alright?” He asked, caressing the side of Steve’s face. Steve shook his head, defeated. “You can do it. I know you’ve got it in you.” He said. To emphasize the point, he thrust his hips and received a quiet cry from Steve. The look on his face was agonized, ecstatic, desperate. A sweaty lock of hair clung to his forehead, his eyelashes trailed on for miles in the semidarkness. They stared each other down before Steve rocked his hips back to meet Bucky’s.

“Yes sir.” Steve said. His voice was shot, breathy, barely there. “One more.” He agreed, nodding. Bucky helped Steve to spread his legs and braced himself, for a moment, on Steve’s trembling thighs before he found steadier ground to anchor himself to on the mattress beside Steve. This time, when Bucky moved, it was in a languid, rolling way that used his whole body. He felt himself slide in and out of Steve and allowed himself to truly feel it, every moment that he shared space with the perfect, fierce, fragile body beneath him.  

Bucky let himself go while instinct took command of them both. The feeling of Steve wrapped around him, all heat and goodness, carried him away from himself. This was all they needed. Bucky’s movements took on a frantic pace, thundering toward that curling sensation that danced just beyond his grasp, so close he could hear it in the little gasps that escaped his lips each time he moved his hips. Steve’s chest rose and fell beneath him, his legs shook, arms reached out for something to cling to and found Bucky’s shoulders.

Steve looked as though he was gazing into the face of God when he came for the fifth time that night. Bucky watched him with a sense of awe at being the source of that smile on his Stevie’s face, and just like that, he joined Steve tipping off the precipice into perfect pleasure.

When they came back into themselves, the sensations of light and sound and touch returning to bright focus, Bucky whispered Steve’s name over and over until it was a part of breathing. Bucky slid out of Steve and mopped them up with a careful sweetness. The separation felt like years, and the cold air hit his body where it no longer touched Steve sending goosebumps up his back. He curled around him again, arms and legs entwined. When he placed a kiss on the back of his head and held him close, it was as much for Bucky as it was for Steve.

“Thank you, sir.” Steve said, his own voice hardly above a whisper, as well.

“You did so good, babydoll.” He said. “So proud of you.”

“Bucky?” Steve asked, his voice still quiet in the still silence that settled around them in the early morning, while sleep began to find them.

“Yeah sweetheart?” Bucky asked, nestling closer.

“You have a good time tonight?”

The question that lingered behind the question Steve asked rang through to Bucky. Had talking about things changed them? Would they be different in the morning? Were they alright? Bucky took Steve’s shoulder in hand and turned him gently, allowing Steve to fall across his chest, sprawling into a new position. Bucky liked sleeping like this even better.

“I always have a good time when I’m with you, Stevie.” He said. Bucky kissed the top of Steve’s head and felt him fall asleep.


End file.
